"You must tell it to me in the presence of, Dr. Herrick," said Stephen, scenting trouble; "I do nothing without his advice."
"Worse luck," growled Frisco, and sat down with a scowl.
Herrick laughed. "You do not seem pleased that you have escaped the gallows, Frisco," he said, "or perhaps you are sorry the criminal did not turn out to be Sidney Endicotte."
"I don't care a fig who it was so long as it wasn't me," replied the ex-sailor. "Huh! fancy Carr being shot by an old hag after going through all the dangers he did. I always thought he'd have a mean end."
"This is beside the point," said Stephen, "as I suppose you did not not come here to criticise my uncle, you had better tell me your business."
"It's not pleasant business," said Frisco coolly.
"So I should expect, seeing that you have come about it," said the Squire; "however, I shall be pleased to hear what it is."
Frisco took a paper out of his pocket.
"I don't think you will," said he; "I have here, Mr. Marsh-Carr, the last will of the Colonel."
Stephen started to his feet and turned pale. Herrick, who had been listening intently, struck in: "I suppose it leaves all the money to you, Mr. Joyce-Frisco?"